Sometimes, the biggest changes start with the smallest tweaks.
When I first named my app “Lerp” I was proud of the reference. It came from linear interpolation—a concept familiar to developers and game designers. It sounded neat. It was short. And it felt clever.
But over time, something didn’t sit right. Not with me, and not with how I wanted the brand to feel.
It wasn’t that people mispronounced it or struggled to spell it. That wasn’t the issue. The name just didn’t feel quite right. It leaned too technical and lacked the playful, approachable vibe I wanted the brand to have.
There were also a few small design quirks. The “e” didn’t balance quite as nicely in the logo as I’d hoped, but that was more of a minor annoyance than anything else.
The bigger issue was what came up when you searched for “Lerp” It turned out to be far from a blank slate. There’s Emil Lerp, inventor of the chainsaw. And there’s a biological meaning too—lerps are weird sugary shelters made by insects. None of these associations matched the image I wanted for the app.
To make things trickier, a company in Sweden was already registered under the name Lerp. It was on its way to liquidation, so the name might have opened up eventually—but waiting for that felt risky and unnecessary.
On a whim, I swapped the “e” for a “u.” And instantly, everything felt better.
“Lurp” had a friendlier, bouncier feel. It still nodded to the original name, but it sounded more fun and less stiff. And the visual balance improved too—the “u” just worked better with the other letters.
Even better, the name was a clean slate. No science jargon, no inventors. Just a few silly Urban Dictionary entries, which honestly made me laugh more than anything else. It had just the right amount of weirdness without any real baggage.
Best of all? It sounded exactly the same—at least in English. That made the transition feel natural—no need to re-educate anyone on pronunciation. Just a simple tweak that made a big difference. Although, the Swedish pronunciation did change a bit. That was never really the intended way of saying it anyway, but it did take me a while to stop saying “Lerp” out of pure reflex.
And as luck would have it, the domain I was already using—lerp.it—had a perfect counterpart: lurp.it. That made the switch even smoother and kept the brand consistent online.
A few friends weren’t sold on the new name. They liked “Lerp.” It sounded sharper, more technical and serious, and they didn’t see a need for change. I totally get that.
But for me, “Lurp” was a name I could get behind. It felt like something I could grow with. It didn’t fight me every time I tried to design around it. It didn’t feel like a compromise. It felt right.
This small change taught me more about naming and branding than I expected:
Would the app be any different if I stuck with “Lerp”? Probably not. But how I felt building it? That changed immediately.
This wasn’t just a branding tweak—it was a mindset shift. I want Lurp to feel fun, approachable, and a little quirky. I want people to smile when they see the name. I even want it to have a mascot (his name is Lil’ Lars, by the way).
So yeah, it’s just one letter. But for me, it made all the difference.
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